


Snake Tree

by Jane St Clair (3jane)



Category: Jackass (Movies), Viva La Bam
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3jane/pseuds/Jane%20St%20Clair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They threw a snake into the trailer with him, you know?  So it's not like he's just going to come down and make nice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snake Tree

They got Bam down off the van, but he climbed a fucking *tree*, and he's still up there, drinking and swearing at them, and he'll probably only come down when he runs out of beer. He actually rigged his jacket into a sling, so he's got a lot of bottles up there with him, but the beer's shit. Coors fucking *Lite*. He'll be all day getting drunk at this rate, and he's not getting any less mad.

 

The number of hoses, scarves, and actual rubber snakes hanging from the tree's lower branches are not helping.

 

Dunn gives him an hour. When Bam's still howling periodically at the end of it, Dunn goes up the tree after him. Settles into a branch-split within earshot, hugging the tree, and says, "You gonna be mad all day?"

 

"Fuck yeah. I hate you fuckers. Think I'll build a treehouse up here and *stay* here. Snakes can't climb trees, right?"

 

"I think after a while your ass is gonna get sore sitting up here."

 

"My ass is already fucking sore, thanks." That's true. They're all covered in bruises, but Bam's got scars. Burns and bruises and half a skin graft. "Anyway, treehouse. It'll have a couch and massage table and shit. Monkey butlers."

 

"Who's gonna build that?"

 

"I'll call a guy."

 

"Your phone's in the car."

 

"Shit." Bam drains the can and hurls it out into the boggy, bright day. "I hate Louisiana."

 

"Get down from here."

 

"Fuck you."

 

"No, c'mon. Get down."

 

"Snakes on the ground."

 

"Look, I'm fucking bored with this," Dunn says. "Climb down or I'm pushing you."

 

Bam flips him off, just that much unsteady. Below them, there's just enough wind the move the not-snakes hanging in the branches. They're sort of pretty, like Spanish moss. Vaguely, Dunn thinks if there was Spanish moss hanging on anything, they'd probably set it on fire. Could do it at night. It'd look cool.

 

If Bam stays up here all night, the guys are gonna build a bonfire at the base of the tree and see how long it takes him to jump.

 

While Bam's dragging another beer out of his coat -- he's got it rigged hanging on the branch below him, and reaching in is precarious -- Dunn scrambles around the tree trunk and settles again on the same branch as Bam. It creaks a little. If they stay up here too long, it'll probably collapse under them.

 

The other branches'll totally slow them down some before they hit the ground.

 

He takes the beer out of Bam's hand while Bam's regaining his balance. Says, "C'mon down." Slides his hand up Bam's thigh and squeezes, hard. There's a bruise there, purple-green and a couple of days old, and Bam hisses as soon as the pressure hits.

 

They leave the beer up in the tree. Later tonight, when they're running low, somebody can climb up and get it all back. Stay up in the tree all night, sing shitty songs, compose odes to Louisiana rodeo grounds in the dark full of snake handlers and crazy-ass hillbillies. Maybe come up with a couple of verses about the potential for gang rape and six fingers and whatever.

 

The other guys are more or less wasted, and the camera dude's just taking footage of the snake in its cage, like it's the most interesting thing in the world, and if he's as high as he looks, for him it really is. Whatever. They've mostly seen him and Bam do this a bunch of times, so nobody actually jumps up to chase after them with a camera. Maybe if it wasn't so fucking hot, if they weren't in Louisi-fucking-ana. And it's not like they've never seen Dunn tie Bam to something with his own stupid scarf before.

 

Looks good, though. Tie him to the stock trailer with his arms over his head. Push his shirt up til it's out of the way. Bite him.

 

"Fuck."

 

"Hurts?" Dunn asks him.

 

"Yeah it fucking hurts."

 

Bites him again. Hard, digging in just this side of drawing blood ('cause he did that once, and then he learned that Bam doesn't clean up and human bites get shitty infected and it's not the kind of scar chicks dig). Grinds his teeth while Bam swears at him. Tense, miserable muscle underneath the bitten layer, and it's maybe not as bad as the last time Bam had a screaming fight with whatever chick he was dating, and she tried to set his car on fire, but it's bad enough. If Dunn was wearing a belt, he'd use that, just beat the fury out of him, but he's thirty miles away from the belt in his suitcase and he's not picking up anything more snake-looking just 'cause it's handy.

 

He can work other stuff out, though. Get a nipple between his fingers and twist until Bam screams and swears at him loud enough for the other guys to hear everything. Pull back and punch him a few times, high up where it'll just bruise, and down on the bruises and scars of his ass. Drag his jeans down a bit every time, until they're around his knees, and fuck he's stupid, because *Bam's* got a belt on.

 

While Dunn's reaching for it, Bam whispers, "Don't. Just fuck me."

 

"Sorry, Princess, what?"

 

"Fuck you. Fuck me."

 

"Jesus, pushy bitch." But it's not like they weren't always gonna do this. Like Dunn didn't climb the tree with stuff already in his pockets, and this isn't like the time he crawled through the barbed-wire fence after Bam and ripped his jeans-ass open and spent the rest of the day with latex fragments and a lube smear all over his ass, and *that* there's footage of for sure, in the archive and probably they fucking laugh themselves to sleep at it in production, but the time he went in without it . . .

 

Yeah.

 

His hand fits over most of the burn-scars. Slick and pressed up against Bam's back, and they didn't prep for this, but it's supposed to hurt a bit. Put him back in his head. Like the breath Bam sucks when Dunn pushes in is him pulling himself together. All the times he whispers "fuck" while he's working on taking it.

 

He whines, once, just about the time Dunn starts to pull back out. It goes higher when he slams back in, trails off into panting and soft, repeated, "fuck you, *fuck* you"s. Softer "fuck me"s.

 

Dunn spreads his legs to put them height-even and thrust for a while, until Bam's pushing back against him, actually talking to him, less mad and more turned on. Til he starts twisted back towards Dunn, and that's it, really. All Dunn can do is mutter, "You're too fucking pretty" and slam in hard a few times until he comes.

 

Holds still inside Bam, after, and wraps his arms around him, one on Bam's chest, twisting a nipple, and the other on his cock. Jerks him off fast and steady, and Dunn's still hard enough to give Bam something to ride while he's working it out. He can even straighten his knees a bit, change the angle, make him yelp right before he comes, smearing into the dust on the trailer's paint.

 

Dunn pulls out, throws the condom away, presses up against Bam's ass and pushes him forward into the mess. Gnaws on his shoulder and neck. "Better?"

 

"Fuck you." Except Bam's laughing. "Yeah, better. Thanks." He arches, pulling at his wrists. "Wanna get me down?"

 

"I could leave you there."

 

"You could kiss my *ass*." He tugs again. Keeps pulling while Dunn's trying to yank the knots free, and really, he's gotta learn to do those slip-knots so he doesn't have to pull all those tiny cloth bits loose, after.

 

Bam turns, knocks his forehead against Dunn's, and ducks under his arm. Wanders off to find beer, yanking his pants up as he goes.

 

The other guys've built a bonfire, not around Bam's tree, and they're roasting fucking weenies on stretched-out wire coat-hangers. Knoxville waves the bent end of his at Bam's ass. Howls when Bam twists around and bites the end off his wiener. Pontius writes that down on the shitty notepad he keeps in his pocket, sketches Bam biting Knoxville and a couple of what might be sausages, or dicks.

 

He's writing by the light of his cell phone. When Dunn peers over his shoulder to get a better look at the artwork, he can see the wallpaper's a long-distance shot of him and Bam from earlier.

 

Dunn thinks maybe he'll steal the phone. Keep the picture, for later.

 


End file.
